


Pulled Apart at the Seams

by LadySlytherin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Stiles, M/M, Mild torture, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Trauma, Sort Of, less than really, prompt-fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: Prompt:Voiles + “I need this.”This is canon-divergent from the scene where Void (aka the Nogitsune) separates from Stiles and absconds with Lydia. Void is no longer possessing Stiles, but there are some...after-effects.





	Pulled Apart at the Seams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firebull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebull/gifts).



> Another tumblr prompt-fill transfer. I had originally intended for my first non-Sterek TW fic on AO3 to be my Steter fic, but it's long and taking more time than anticipated to finish, so I'm moving over my Stiles/Void fics first. Oh, well.
> 
> This was written for the lovely OriginFire over on tumblr - Firebull here on AO3 - as were the other two Stiles/Void fics I'll be transferring over shortly. This was my first attempt at the ship, so take it for what it's worth.
> 
> Comments are love. ❤️
> 
> ~ Sly

Stiles knew he shouldn’t do it. He _knew_ it was wrong. Every part of him knew he should turn the jeep around. He should drive home. He should tell Scott and Derek and the others what he knew; what he could _feel._ His finger brushed the mark on his neck, just below his ear; the _jiko_ kanji the Oni had marked him with. He was himself, in the sense that the Nogitsune was no longer _inside_ him. But he also _wasn’t_ himself, because the body he was in was nothing but a copy.

Every childhood scar - every mark he’d earned through living his life, and youthful stupidity, and stubborn determination to run with _fucking_ werewolves - was on the body the Nogitsune still inhabited. Stiles’ skin was pristine, aside from the constellations of moles dotting it. It was _new._ And yeah, maybe some people daydreamed about every scar, blemish, and imperfection being wiped away, but they had belong to _Stiles._ They were _his_. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that an evil spirit had stolen them from him, most likely for forever. He really didn’t think he’d be getting his body back, when this was all said and done.

And while the Nogitsune was off in Stiles’ original body, the cloned thing Stiles was wearing felt _strange._

He could feel the places in his mind where the Nogitsune had been. Where the Nogitsune was _missing._ He could feel a tie between them as well. A slight tugging that let him know exactly what direction he needed to go, if he wanted to find the thing wearing his face. And Stiles _knew_ he should let it lead the Pack to the Nogitsune so they could stop it and rescue Lydia. Instead, he was driving towards that faint tug, drawn like a moth to a flame to the thing that was killing him.

It _was_ killing him, too.

Stiles could feel his life slipping away, like sand through his fingers. Could feel the way the Nogitsune had taken more than his face and form. Could feel how the thing was _still_ taking. Could feel _Void,_ somewhere still inside himself, connected to him in a way he feared they wouldn’t be able to sever before he succumbed.

Stiles laughed a little hysterically as he pulled the jeep up to a wrought-iron gate. “I’ve already succumbed, haven’t I?” He asked the empty air around him, shaking his head as he undid his seatbelt with trembling fingers. “I’ve already given in. Given _up._ Nothing left to do but follow through...”

Stiles climbed out the jeep, then pushed his way through the tall gate. Standing in a doorway, steps behind him leading down - to where, Stiles didn’t know - was...well, him. But not him; not really. _Void._ It was Void staring at him with Stiles’ own amber eyes. Void smirking cruelly with Stiles’ own full lips. Void inhabiting the body Stiles had grown up in, and which part of him ached to reclaim, though he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Can’t say I expected you.” Void said, and there was a cadence to his voice that made Stiles flinch back. It sounded like him, but it _didn’t_ sound like him, if that made any sense. “But then, I can’t say I’m surprised either. I’ve been inside you for _months,_ Stiles. It’s no wonder you feel empty now that I’m gone.”

Stiles whined, the sound ripped from his throat against his will, and stumbled a few steps closer to Void. He wished he had something clever to say, but he didn’t. He was just _so tired._ “I...I don’t...” Stiles stammered for a moment while Void grinned at him, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Poor thing.” That smile shifted into a sympathetic pout, but those golden eyes were still dark with an unholy sort of glee. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? I taught you to _crave_ it, didn’t I? The pain. The fear. The _chaos._ But you can’t feed on it like I can, no matter how much you want to.”

Stiles swallowed hard and took a terrified step closer. He was right next to Void now. Close enough to touch; close enough to be grabbed. But Void just smirked at him again and waited, head tipped a little to one side in a way that screamed curiosity. Stiles figured that was fair. Foxes were clever, and so were tricksters, but curiosity drove them as much as their need for chaos did. Curiosity was just another sort of hunger, after all. Just another need that had to be fed. Just another insatiable appetite.

“I’m dying.” Stiles finally whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say. “You...this body, you created it. With power from pain and fear and strife. From chaos.”

Void nodded, eyes still watchful, his smirk melting a little at the edges into a sweeter sort of smile. It was almost more unnerving than the smug satisfaction had been. “What of it?”

“It’s _dying.”_ Stiles repeated, because he was consumed by the thought; by the _knowing._ “There’s nothing to feed it anymore. _I_ can’t feed it. And you kept the body that could stay alive without the things you made this one with, so I...I can’t...it’s not...” Stiles took a shaky breath and whispered. “I’m going to die.”

“Possibly.”

Void sounded so... _agreeable._ It grated on Stiles’ nerves a bit, his temper sparking into life. “Is that all you have to say? It’s not bad enough you crawled inside me and took over...not bad enough you had to take _my_ face when you separated us...you had to stick me with a body I can’t recharge, too?”

Void’s grin widened, eyes tracking Stiles’ face as though delighting in the dull red flush Stiles could feel heating his ashen face. “Feeling stronger?” Void cooed, and Stiles’ lips parted in surprise when he realized he _did._ “You can’t absorb anger, or fear, or pain, or chaos. Not the way _I_ can. But you can _feel_ them. Not quite the same, I admit, but...close enough, for what you need.”

Stiles stiffened, back coming up hard against the rough wall behind him as Void suddenly crowded in close. “The darkness suits you, Stiles. It’s why I chose _you,_ and not one of your little friends. I had three of you to choose from, after all. Didn’t you wonder how you won that lottery? You can feel the darkness inside you, even now. It will do you good, if you let it. If you just...give in.”

Stiles shuddered, feeling the way his heart was pounding in his chest; beating wildly against his ribs. His blood was singing, nerves tingling with fear and anger and a dull sort of horror at what he was considering. He felt _alive,_ in a way he hadn’t in...in longer than he liked to think about. He felt Void’s breath against his throat. Felt Void’s head turn, lips brushing over the pulse thundering in the side of his throat. Felt Void’s tongue dart out to taste the skin the Oni had marked.

When Void drew back to meet his gaze, Stiles wondered how something could look so much like him and yet _nothing_ like him at the same time.

“Make your choice, Stiles.” Void grinned again, this time showing gleaming silvered fangs. “Chaos...or death?”

~*~*~*~

Lydia cringed back into the small cell as the Nogitsune - the thing called Void - opened the barred door. “L-leave me alone!” She tried to sound strong; defiant. She knew her voice trembled too much to pull it off, but she _tried._ “If you h-hurt me, my friends w-will make you pay.”

“Will they?” The voice was soft, and so very like Stiles’. It was tearing Lydia’s heart to pieces. The thing circled her and she spun wildly in place, trying to keep her eyes on it at all times. It tsked quietly and spoke again. “I’d keep my eyes on the doorway, if I were you. I’m not the biggest threat you’re facing right now.”

Lydia’s eyes flew to the door and...and there was Stiles. Or...or another Void. An illusion? Lydia wasn’t sure; didn’t know what to think. Suddenly an arm was around her waist, gripping firmly, even as a long-fingered hand curled around the front of her throat. She let out a small shriek of fear, even as a chin hooked over her shoulder. The Stiles holding her shushed her soothingly while the one in the doorway stared at her with hungry eyes. She whimpered as her throat was nuzzled.

“I dreamt of this, you know.” Stiles’ voice was quiet in her ear; almost fond. “God, Lyds, I dreamt of this. Holding you close. Feeling the warmth of you against me. I wanted you for _so long.”_

“S-stiles?” Lydia kept her eyes on the one in the doorway - on the one she was certain now was truly Void - and spoke to Stiles, who was holding her in such a threatening way. “Please, Stiles...you don’t want to do this. You’re my friend, remember? You don’t want to h-hurt me,”

“Oh, he does. And so do I.” The voice snarled in her ear, and she jerked forward when she realized the words were lisped around _fangs,_ which meant it was _Void_ holding her, not Stiles. Her eyes closed in anguished defeat as Void continued to speak. “But _I_ need you, sweet banshee, to warn me when death comes for me. That’s why it’s not _me_ you need to worry about it. It’s _him.”_

Lydia opened her eyes and bit back another whimper when she realized Stiles was standing right in front of her, an anguished desperation etched across his face. “Please...” She whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Stiles, don’t do this. You _can’t_ want to do this...”

“I don’t _want_ this.” Stiles told her, voice hoarse and miserable even as his eyes shone with fierce determination. “I _need_ this.” He brought up his hand, a gleaming blade in it, and dragged the tip of it down her cheek just hard enough to sting; to let her feel blood welling up and know she’d been cut.

“Why?” Lydia asked, even as she went limp in Void’s grip, knowing fighting was pointless.

Stiles smiled sadly, though his mouth twisted up oddly as he seemed to study the blood now smeared along the blade he held. “I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now, Lyds. I’ve never been more horrified, or felt this kind of revulsion. I’ve never been more _furious_ with myself, because I’m hurting someone I care about.”

He glanced up at her face and shuddered, looking like he might be ill for a moment before he stiffened his spine and forced another smile onto his lips. “I shouldn’t value my own life more than yours...but I do, and I _hate_ that. I hate that hurting you makes me feel _so fucking alive._ I hate that I can feel myself getting stronger the more I consider what I’m willing to do to keep this body he built for me going.”

Void laughed in her ear, and purred. “Don’t worry, Stiles. You’ll learn to love this. You’ll learn to love _me._ And as long as you keep hating yourself for that, you’ll live. Isn’t it worth it?”

“Yeah.” Stiles murmured, and Lydia squeezed her eyes shut against the look in his eyes as he brought the knife towards her again. “Yeah, it is.”

And as Lydia _screamed,_ she could hear Void laughing in delight. The underground room’s bare walls bounced the sound back, making it echo eerily. Or maybe...

...maybe Stiles was laughing, too.

**_~ Fin ~_ **


End file.
